A Night at The Ivy
by broken-quill24
Summary: An account of the first meeting between Angeline Ross and Artemis Fowl I and the events that followed. Inspired by a quote in TTP. Updated, now a series!
1. A Night at the Ivy

A Night at The Ivy

Disclaimer: I do not own Artemis Fowl and/or any related characters. If I did, Holly and Artemis would have gotten together in TOD.

_Dear Mr. Fowl_

_You are formally invited to a meeting of the world's greatest entrepreneurs at_

_The Ivy Restaurant and Lounge, this Saturday at eight o'clock. _

_Formal attire only, invitees may bring one guest._

_Please RSVP by this Wednesday. _

It was nearing midnight, but the Ivy Restaurant's private room was still buzzing with activity. Laughter and conversation flowed as freely as the champagne and candle light sparkled off the silver ware and crystal, giving the room a very dreamy, surreal look. Gathered in small clusters throughout the room, the world's most prominent businessmen discussed politics and gold. Dinner and dessert were complete, and the men and women had left the confines of the dining tables to mingle with others.

Absorbed in one of these conversations, was Artemis Fowl. Despite his age, the young Irishman fit in perfectly with the older business men. The invitation had boasted a meeting of the world's greatest entrepreneurs, by Artemis knew better. In the world of business, the word 'entrepenuer' could easily have been read 'criminal' and Artemis had plenty of experience with that field of work. Besides, who in the working world hadn't heard of the Fowl Empire?

"Why Mr. Fowl, I must say I have not laughed so much since I was a boy. You've got quite the wit there son, remind me of myself when I was in my twenties," chuckled one of Artemis' new companions, one hand on his ample stomach and the other around the waist of the thin, fair woman who pretended to be his wife at social functions.

Artemis smiled dazzlingly at the man, and thought happily to himself, 'That may be so, but I'm barely eighteen. No need to tell him that though; champagne tastes a whole lot nicer than apple juice or soda.'

"Oh, I simply must introduce you to my daughter! She'd just love you to pieces!" cried one of the other wives, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

"Don't push him Diane, he's probably got much more important things on his mind than marriage," scolded her husband gently, winking at Artemis.

"More important than marriage?" The wife practically shrieked, as though this was the most outrageous thing she had ever heard, "He's a young man Clarence! He probably thinks of nothing else!"

'Clarence' sighed and pulled his wife away from the group, saying something about getting another drink while Artemis tried not to blush and stare at his feet.

"Don't give her much thought," another man advised, "She's been trying to marry her daughter off for ages but nobody will take her, even with all the money. I heard she's got these horrible warts on her nose, like a witch."

"Oh really?" Artemis mumbled, only partially interested. In these elite circles, marriage was often discussed between families. The idea was quite medieval, arranged marriages, but sometimes necessary among the biggest families. Artemis hated the concept, and had once been in a yelling match over it with his father, Quinn Fowl IV. They hadn't broached the topic since. The gentlemen was right, he had more important things to worry about than marriage.

"Well, I think I'd like another drink, how about you fine gentlemen?" suggested an owner of a large Greek shipping company. The other men nodded jovially and strolled towards the open bar where a very weary young man endlessly served drinks to thirsty crooks.

Artemis stayed at the back of the room, preferring not to have his judgment impaired by another drink. There were major opportunities to take advantage of here tonight, million dollar deals to be made, and he needed to stay sharp. His eyes roamed the crowd, looking for an opening in conversation or anyone he knew. Unfortunately, no one returned his gaze, too absorbed in their own conversations and drink.

'Oh well,' Artemis thought, 'I've been at this for nearly four hours, time to relax a bit.' It was true, since arriving, young Artemis Fowl had already made three large business deals and had collected several business cards with promises to call during the next week. Plus, thanks to his apparent wit and charm, no one would forget his name after tonight. No longer would he be overshadowed by his father.

After several minutes, Artemis' sapphire eyes alighted on a pair of wide French doors, leading on to the balcony. A little fresh air would probably do him some good, and he was getting a tad warm in his coat and tails.

Working his way through the crowd, Artemis finally reached the doors and pushed them open. Cool and refreshing night air washed over him as he stood at the threshold. It was early October and the fall air was crisp. Behind him, Artemis heard several men complain loudly about the cold, and he quickly stepped onto the balcony, shutting the doors behind him. Enjoying the feel of the night air, Artemis stepped towards the black, wrought iron railing and leaned his back against it, his face turned to the heavens above. The sky was like black velvet, scattered with diamonds here and there despite the light pollution from the city. The moon shone like a giant white medallion, casting London in an eerie silver glow.

"Shouldn't you be inside, embezzling money or something?"

Artemis jumped and whirled around, trying to see who had spoken. As silently as a shadow herself, a young woman stepped out of the darkness and appraised Artemis. Despite himself, he caught his breath.

She was by far the most beautiful woman Artemis had ever seen. Her hair was light brown, soft like the pelt of a young deer and she had deep, chocolate brown eyes framed in dark lashes. Her skin was pale, like his, but glowed with healthy radiance. She was dressed in a beautiful pearl white gown, modest and chaste.

"Are you going to answer my question or not?" she demanded.

Artemis forced himself to form complete sentences before speaking, "I just came out for a breather, like you."

"A breather? Yes, I guess that's right," the woman scoffed and crossed her arms.

"Who did you come here with?" Artemis asked, curious. He had not seen the woman during dinner or afterwards.

"My father. Herald Ross, you probably met him."

Artemis remembered the man, tall and imposing. A little bit like his own father, but much more British. He hadn't wanted to speak much and was one of the few who judged Artemis by his age, "Yes, I met him."

"And may I ask who accompanied you, Mr- ?" she asked, still not loosing her suspicious glare.

"Fowl, Artemis Fowl. And I came by myself. Took me forever to convince my bodyguard."

"Mr Artemis Fowl," the girl laughed quietly, "Isn't _that_ a name? Not very Irish. Wasn't Artemis a Greek goddess?"

Artemis bit his lip, most days he hated his name, "My mother had quite a fascination with Greek mythology. I was to be named Artemis whether I was born girl or boy."

"_Had_ quite a fascination?" the girl said, not missing the past tense.

"She died two years ago. Leukemia."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said, finally dropping her guard. She leaned forward to rest her arms on the railing and looked down into the garden below.

"It's okay. We weren't very close, mother and I," Artemis said with a touch of sadness in his voice.

They were silent for a while until she said, "You still haven't answered my question. This should be a prime business opportunity for you, with all these rich criminals here."

"It has. Many lucrative business partnerships have been born from tonight. But alas, I'm tired and needed a rest from all the conversation. What about you Miss Ross? Why aren't you in there with your father?"

"I've refused to attend, that's why. I hate my father and all of these business meetings. There isn't an honest man in this entire restaurant and all father is interested in is setting me up with some fat, old millionaire," she said, her fists clenched in anger. For the first time, Artemis noticed that she was shivering violently and her delicate lips were almost blue from cold.

"Have you been out here all night?" Artemis said suddenly, outraged by the thought, "Did your father send you out here?"

"No," she said, "I said I refused to attend, but my father insisted. We fought and I volunteered to stay out here, in protest."

"For four hours! That's just idiotic! You'll freeze to death at this rate," Artemis said, quickly trying to shrug out of his tuxedo jacket. The girl's hand was suddenly on his arm.

"Do not call me an idiot and do not give me chivalry Fowl. I can take care of myself."

"Fine," Artemis retorted. He had to admit, this girl was intriguing to him. He'd never fought with a young woman before, nor seen one with such bad manners. "Do really hate your father and his business that much?"

The girl considered this thought for a moment, then said, "My entire life, I have fought with my father and stood for everything he's against. I am a humanitarian, technically, my father, and everyone else here's worst enemy."

Artemis remembered his own father scoffing the United Nations' work and suddenly felt sorry for the girl and a little bit guilty for being a criminal, "Well, just because you're a humanitarian, doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself. Being a good person doesn't have to mean sacrificing fun, unless your dream is to be a martyr."

Miss Ross laughed, "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, let's see," Artemis looked around the balcony with a mock expression of surprise, "There doesn't seem to be anybody else out here but us, and since you seem to despise me-"

"I do not," she said quickly, then covered her mouth, as though the words had slipped out without her permission.

Artemis smirked and then, with more bravery than he felt, took the girl's slim hand from off the railing and kissed it gently, looking up into her surprised face, "Well in that case, may I have this dance?"

Her hand still in Artemis', the girl looked away, blushing, and then said, "If you must."

"Excellent," the young Fowl said and took the strange girl by the waist. She reluctantly put her hand on his shoulder, and they began to waltz, without music or beat, the only sounds being the London traffic below and the constant rumble of chatter from The Ivy.

"For someone who hates these kinds of parties, you certainly dance well Miss Ross."

"Wasn't it you that said even humanitarians are allowed to have fun?"

The two danced for what seemed like minutes, but was actually nearing an hour. By that time, it wasn't just the girl that was shivering, though she eventually took Artemis' coat.

_Knock, Knock, Knock! _

Artemis and the girl turned to look at the balcony doors, through which they could see Harold Ross, a stern look on his face. He was mouthing, "Let's go."

"Well, I guess that's my cue," Miss Ross said with a shrug and dropped her hands. Artemis, however, held on to her waist and one hand.

"When will I see you again?" he asked, almost pleading.

She smiled, wary of her father's gaze, "I don't know. Next gathering of criminals I guess. I'll ask my father," she tried to pull her hands away, but Artemis held on persistently.

"At least tell me your name Miss Ross, before you go."

"Angeline, Angeline Ross."

"That's a beautiful name. Shall I call you Angel for short?" he leaned forward, whispering in her ear.

"Only if I can call you Timmy."

Artemis balked at the nickname and finally let go of Angeline's hands, stepping back. She slowly took off his jacket, dragging their moment together out. Harold knocked on the door impatiently again.

"Good bye Angeline Ross, until next time."

"Yes, goodbye Artemis Fowl," she turned to open the door, her father glaring at her from inside. Her hand hovered over the brass latch when suddenly she turned to Artemis and reached out to touch him. She placed one delicate hand under his chin and pulled his face close. Freezing lips touched freezing lips. Instinctively, Artemis put his hands on Angeline's waist while her father almost yelled in outrage from inside the restaurant.

"Until next time," Angeline breathed the promise into the young man's ear and stepped back reluctantly. With a longing gaze that made Artemis' heart pound painfully, she opened the door and let herself be led into the crowd by her father. Artemis stood on his toes to watch her go, following the soft brown head of hair through the assembly of 'businessmen'.

Artemis thought with a smile, 'Next time can not come soon enough.'

****

Author's Note: Well, there you go: the story of Artemis and Angeline. I was inspired to write this after writing the latest chapter of 'While You Were Out' and re-reading the beginning of TTP, where Artemis Senior mentions this meeting. I hope that everyone was in character and that Angeline and Artemis' back-stories made sense. Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and know that your opinions and comments are quite welcomed via. a review!


	2. A Night at Fowl Manor

A Night at Fowl Manor

Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl and all related characters belong to Eoin Colfer.

****

"_Until next time," Angeline breathed the promise into the young man's ear and stepped back reluctantly. With a longing gaze that made Artemis' heart pound painfully, she opened the door and let herself be led into the crowd by her father. Artemis stood on his toes to watch her go, following the soft brown head of hair through the assembly of 'businessmen'._

_Artemis thought with a smile, 'Next time cannot come soon enough.'_

It had been nearly three months since that magical night at the Ivy in London and as much as she regretted it, Angeline Ross had to admit that, yes; she had looked forward to the next time she and the dashing Artemis Fowl met again. To be fair, Angeline Ross wasn't much of a romantic. She had little patience for the girls that spent their days swooning over make-believe 'Prince Charmings' and 'Mr. Rights', however, given the opportunity, Angeline would have gladly gushed about the mysterious scallywag she had met on that fateful night.

That is, until she found out about the 'Piano' deal.

The day had started out nicely enough. As always, Angeline woke early. It was a Sunday, and although Angeline quite enjoyed her schooling (private, and taught by a retired Oxford professor) she reveled in having a day off. It was still much too cold to sit outside, so she enjoyed her morning cup of herbal tea in the mansion's sunroom, surrounded by the orchids that had been cultivated there. It was almost like she was really in Africa, contributing her own sweat to the project, instead of just overseeing it from afar.

The sun had just crested the surrounding hillsides when her father joined her in the sunroom, garbed in his robe and slippers and a cup of strong (and, at his daughter's insistence, fair trade) coffee in hand. For a while the two stood in silence.

Despite their divorce, there was still one thing that Angeline's parents, Herald and Victoria agreed on: Angeline. Throughout her childhood the couple had questioned her strange behavior, from charity to the refusal of gifts. Surely these tendencies must have come from some distant relative, or perhaps a particularly influential teacher at grammar school (the only regular school Angeline attended before switching to a private tutor in her teens) because both Herald and Victoria knew it hadn't come from themselves. Perhaps it was a genetic mutation. Harold had read up on those. Sometimes children were born that looked completely different than their parents. Couldn't the same happen with attitude? Why, Angeline's little brother Edgar was relatively normal. He still took all of his Christmas presents like a good boy, instead of donating them to women's shelters like his elder sister did. Yes, perhaps it was a mutation.

As a result of these many years of observation and questioning, Angeline and Harold had a strained relationship. Though the Ross' enterprises weren't nearly as black-hearted as some of the others he knew (the _Fowl's_ for instance), Angeline still reprimanded her father for nearly everything he did, and, since the divorce, she had clearly become head of the household.

"Yes father?" Angeline asked after a few moments of quiet contemplation. Her father usually didn't visit with her casually like this.

Harold looked up, awakened from his reverie and his aging mind scrambled to remember what he had come to tell his daughter. "Er, yes. Mr. Michaels called. He said to phone back as soon as possible."

Angeline nearly leapt from her lounge chair, clutching her empty tea cup. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she shrieked.

Harold spluttered into his tea, jolted by his daughter's hysterical outburst. After taking a painfully long moment to dab at his robe with a handkerchief, he replied, "I didn't think it was that urgent."

Angeline shrieked again as she flew out of the sun room, her silk night gown flying behind her like a white cape. It cost a fortune to call from Africa, of course it was urgent! Skidding on the tile floor the last two feet, Angeline reached the parlor telephone. She quickly dialed the unusually long number and waited as the connection was made.

Mr. Michaels was the man in charge of Angeline's latest conservation project. He and his men, a group of local soldiers patrolled a parcel of land near the Congo River in the African country of Zaire (now known as the Republic of Congo), discouraging poaching in the area. Their job was not to shoot any illegal hunters, but to send a strong message (and if that message included a few warning shots over the head, so be it). The project was completely funded by Angeline, who spent most of her free time organizing galas and charity auctions to support it.

"Hello, Michaels speaking," came the eventual reply.

"Yes, Mr. Michaels. It's Angeline. Father said you called?" Angeline answered quickly in French.

"Ah, yes, Mademoiselle Ross. I'm sorry that I'm calling so early."

"It's no trouble sir. I was up."

"Good, good." Mr. Michaels said, sounding distracted then sighing. "Angeline, we have a problem."

Angeline could feel her heartbeat actually quicken. There were so many things that could wrong with this project. So many variables, but thus far Mr. Michaels had kept everything under control. Anxiously, she said, "A problem, Mr. Michaels?"

Another sigh. He was obviously worried how she would respond. "Last night, our men on the northern border got paid into letting some hunters in."

This time Angeline's heart skipped a beat and she asked the dreaded question, "Who? How many?"

"Well, I talked to the two bastards who accepted the bribe this morning –if you'll pardon my language Miss-"

"Never mind! What did they say?" Angeline said, trying to keep from shrieking again.

The sound of rustling papers. "Apparently they were paid off by two locals. Men from the same tribe. Working for some guy named Fowl. They wouldn't say anymore."

Angeline's mind reeled. No, it couldn't be. It must have been the boy's father. Yes. _He_ had had nothing to do with the project. _He_ was different…wasn't he?

"How many?" she continued, shaking.

"They were very organized. I haven't got the exact numbers yet, but it looks like they got out with 6 bull's worth." He meant bull elephants. The men had obviously been hired to gather their ivory, and, as is well known, the only way to accomplish that is to kill the poor beasts. This is worse than it sounds, as the elephants in the Congo basin are especially rare. "Thank the Lord our other men heard the shots and chased them out before they could get any more. I don't expect any of those guys will be coming back to the village anytime soon."

"Thank you Mr. Michaels, and thank your men for their diligence. I don't expect we have the funds to recover?"

"Not right now Miss and I doubt anybody will be willing to let us borrow a few males for mating season. They're just as overprotective as we are." Mr. Michaels concluded, his anger and sadness clear in his voice.

"I'll think of something Mr. Michaels. Good day."

"Good day Miss Ross." The connection ended and with a barely repressed sob, Angeline collapsed into the nearest chair. Though she had only visited her private reserve once, she felt as though each and every animal was her child. She spent all of her waking days, and most nights worrying and planning on behalf of those previous creatures, and for someone to just waltz in there and destroy six…

No, not just someone. The Fowls. It was the Fowls. Those dirty, Irish scoundrels with their piercing blue eyes and forever cocked eyebrows. That boy with the suave charm and smooth dance moves. That little arse-face that she had actually _kissed_ on that balcony three months ago. _That_ Fowl.

Angeline let out a quiet sob as she held her head in her hands, thankful for the hair that fell in sheets before her face, hiding her red eyes. She cried, cursing the cruelty of fate. After a moment, she heard the quiet footsteps of her Father's slipper-clad feet and felt his giant, warm hand on her back. Nothing was said, nor was there need for anything to be said. Try as he might, Harold Ross would never understand his daughter and she, him.

It seemed 'next time' had come far too soon.

*****

_One Month Later_

"Sir, you're pacing."

Silence.

"You look nervous sir. It's not very flattering."

Silence.

"Did you make sure to apply some antiperspirant today sir? I think you may have forgotten."

Silence.

"Oh, come on sir. It was just a joke."

Artemis Fowl sighed loudly and, stopping mid-step, retired into the oxblood leather chair. He held his head in his hands for a moment before replying, "I'm sorry Major. You're right, I am nervous."

Artemis' bodyguard (commonly, 'The Major') laughed softly to himself and gazed warmly at his charge from his place at the library windows. It wasn't often that the Major allowed himself to show such displays of emotion, but he couldn't help himself. Of course the boy was nervous. He was in love.

"You'll be fine. I thought you two got along quite well last time."

"We did," Artemis replied, pinching the bridge of his nose as he often did when he was frustrated with himself. "I really shouldn't be so worried."

Even so, Artemis couldn't stop the panicky feeling filling his abdomen (or, as the cute saying goes "it was full of butterflies") and the sweating of his palms. He had tried not to wait for this day, as though the surprise would make it come sooner.

Of course, Artemis and Angeline had been in correspondence. Like any young couple, they wrote letters to each other over the past months, detailing their feelings for each other and their daily lives. However, lately the letters had stopped. Artemis didn't think much of it. She'd agreed to come and visit him, and that was a hundred times better than any scrap of paper.

He remembered the conversation well. At first he had just been casually eavesdropping on his father, listening to speaker which received wireless signals from the minute microphone he had placed in Quinn Fowl IV's office. It was always nice to keep up to date on the latest Fowl ventures. On this particular day however, he was distracted and barely listening to anything his father was saying when suddenly, he heard the magic word.

"-I didn't know your daughter and Artemis were still in contact. What was her name again?" Pause. "Ah, yes, Angeline, well-"

Artemis nearly fell out of his chair. He scrambled over to the speaker and put his ear close to the device, hungry to hear more.

"-I don't think it would be any problem Harold. It will give us an opportunity to discuss the proposal before I present it to the board."

Pause. Harold replied then Quinn continued.

"Hmmm…I'm afraid we'll have to make it January. My sister's taking Artemis with her family down to Fiji for his school holiday," he laughed, "Yes, I'm sure the sun will do him some good. Put a bit of colour back in his cheeks before he sees Angeline again."

Another comment from Harold.

"Well you know Harold, it's funny. Ever since he met your girl at that party in London, he hasn't stopped talking about her once. I'm surprised he hasn't asked to see her yet. Too shy probably, although he seems to have no problems _listening in on my phone conversations_."

Artemis blushed furiously and yelped, tumbling back away from the tiny speaker. The conversation in the other room continued though, and Artemis heard his father say,

"What? Oh, no. I didn't mean now. He wouldn't dare to continue listening, especially since he knows I've got my old cricket bat right beside me here."

Artemis' hand shot out and flicked the switch on the speaker, quickly rising and shoving the speaker underneath his bed. He knew it was a poor hiding spot, but he wasn't concerned.

Angeline was coming to see him!

That was at the beginning of December, and now, after a grueling vacation in Fiji (a criminal mastermind can only stand so much sun and relaxation) here he was.

"Why would she stop writing to me?" Artemis said to the room in general, pacing again.

"Perhaps she received some head trauma and now has amnesia, forgetting everything about you," the Major deadpanned, now reading in the chair his master had vacated a moment before.

Artemis whirled on his servant. "Do _not_ joke of such things Major! And you chide me for being nervous…"

The Major laughed his deep, rumbling laugh. "Artemis, how am I supposed to know why your girlfriend has stopped writing you? Combined, we have about as much experience with women as a celibate monk."

"She's not my girlfriend-"Artemis was about to hiss when there was a knock on the library door. He called towards it, "Yes?"

One of the manor's other servants poked her blonde head in. "Mr. Ross has just called sir; they should be here in about 20 minutes."

Artemis felt his heart beat quicken and his stomach clench. He nodded and thanked the maid before turning back to Major, a silly grin plastered across his face. His bodyguard looked up from his book, eyebrow raised; looking as sardonic as his charge did ecstatic.

"Where should I meet her? In here, or is this too secluded…what about the parlor…I wouldn't want to imply anything by taking her upstairs to my study…"

The Major rose and laid a giant hand of Artemis' back, pushing his gently towards the door. "I'm sure anywhere would be fine. She's here to see _you_, not the furniture. Now, run upstairs to your room and change your shirt. I wasn't joking about the antiperspirant thing."

*****

"We're here Miss, Sir," the driver announced, pulling up in front of the manor with a crunch of gravel.

Angeline blinked, surprised that she was able to relax enough to fall into a light sleep. Quickly she sat straight up and pulled a compact mirror from her purse, checking her hair and face. Angeline wasn't a vain person, but it wouldn't do for her to look disheveled at a time like this.

Without waiting for the driver to open the door for her, Angeline stepped out of the car and into the moist, Irish January air. She took no time to admire the beauty of the manor's surrounding landscape and delicate stone work, striding powerfully to the front door.

"Angeline, wait for your old father dear," Harold called, pulling from the car his briefcase and walking stick (which he only used when visiting important business friends) and following his daughter to the door. She waited impatiently, the toe of her high heeled shoe tapping furiously on the stone front step. Harold looked at her for a moment, confused. This was certainly not a girl going to see her boyfriend.

Angeline knocked on the giant manor front doors and they opened almost instantly under her touch. A number of servants waited there for her, all with very expectant looks on their faces. Slowly, they took in her severe hair do and conservative clothes and frowned. Was this the girl's mother perhaps? They tried to peer over her shoulder, looking hopefully for a blonde bombshell with diamonds and a red satin dress. They found no such thing and after a moment of allowing them to stare, Angeline demanded that she see Artemis immediately.

The maids looked nervously about until a booming voice scattered them.

"This way Miss Ross."

Angeline looked up, and up, and up again to see a giant man standing in the doorway. He was wearing a black suit and his equally dark hair had been pulled back from his face tightly into a low ponytail. Strangely enough, he was smiling warmly and Angeline followed him into the house. As they walked through the lavish residence the man introduced himself as Artemis' bodyguard.

'Ah, so this was the guy Artemis had been giving the slip at the party,' thought Angeline.

The man led her up a wide staircase and showed her to a closed door.

"He'll see you now," the bodyguard grunted and quickly left Angeline alone.

For a moment or two Angeline just stared at the door in front of her, taking deep breaths. Even the _doors_ looked expensive. Without knocking, Angeline opened the door and stepped into Artemis' office.

Artemis heard the door open and smiled smugly to himself. Show time. Taking a luxuriously long time, Artemis spun around in his office chair to look at his princess, just loving how suave and dramatic he must look at the moment. Then, as he finally faced Angeline, he said,

"At the risk of sounding clichéd, I've been expecting you."

He looked up through what he hoped were half-lidded, sexy eyes and, seeing Angeline, finally registered that something was wrong.

Gone were the soft brown locks that Artemis had so longed to touch, now pinned harshly into a bun at the base of her neck. Gone were the sparkling brown eyes lightly dusted with make-up, they now burned with anger. And finally, gone was the chaste pearl coloured dress, to be replaced with a navy business suit.

"Angel-"he squeaked, his voice breaking.

Artemis' office was quite sizeable, but within seconds Angeline had crossed it, now standing beside the owner's desk, fists clenched.

"It's nice to see you too…?" Artemis' voice continued to wobble and he leaned back in his chair, truly scared now.  
"How could you?!" Angeline shrieked suddenly and, quick as a viper, slapped Artemis right across the face.

*****

Broken-Quill24: After a month and a ½ long hiatus, I'm so excited to announce my return to FF! For all of you that cared (one….maybe two?) the play went great and I'm so relieved to be on Christmas holidays. Kinda wishing I could go to Fiji like Artemis though…what am I saying? Yay Canadian winters! Anyway, thanks to all that continued to read and review my stories even when I was gone. More updates to come!


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